


his cup now overflowing

by slimeys



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, chicken nuggets, friends to lovers almost, one (1) handjob, theyre literally so important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimeys/pseuds/slimeys
Summary: "When they pull up to the first window, Sokka can see Zuko reaching into his pocket to pull out some cash, but he stops him.“Don’t worry about it, dude. The man is supposed to pay for the date, so I got you.”That was… kinda bold on his part, he’ll admit. Neither of them have ever called their hangouts dates before."Sokka and Zuko's study break turns out to be the most productive part of their day.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 186





	his cup now overflowing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meeokie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeokie/gifts).



> thank you epi for being my beta <3

“Meeehhhhhh,” Sokka groans again, a little louder than he should in the university library, but maybe if Zuko just paid attention to him he wouldn’t have to be this obnoxious. These are desperate times, and they call for desperate measures. 

There’s something about fall semester specifically that, in Sokka’s opinion, makes studying extremely painful. He figures it’s the way the sun decides to clock out no later than 4pm every day, and how it works in tandem with this chill that starts to wrap tightly around campus come October, creating one of the least mentally stimulating environments you can imagine. 

Don’t get him wrong—Sokka is still adamant about sticking to his carefully planned daily agenda, rain or shine, but it’s just extra hard with all the temptation that sweatpants and a fuzzy blanket have to offer in these trying times. 

And then when he has the perfect person to share that blanket with, sitting in front of him,  _ tempting in his own way?  _ What, he’s just supposed to carry on like nothing? Try to make sense of his Mechanical 221 assignment while actively ignoring this prettyboy that dares to consume his field of vision? It’s simply not a task meant for humans. No reasonable person could hope to overcome such trial and tribulation for the sake of  _ midterms,  _ with their grades that don’t even show up on a transcript.

(Note that the qualifier _reasonable_ excludes Katara, as she is the one and only person who would willingly overlook every distraction plaguing Sokka’s existence right now. )

The worst part of this, as Sokka mentioned earlier, is that while he’s here struggling, Zuko is so laser-focused on his own work that Sokka might as well not be here at all. No acknowledgement, no interaction, for the past hour at least. This is neglect. He could die from this right here right now and Zuko just wouldn’t care, like the jerk he is. 

Now he’s kinda mad, honestly. Is it because he’s ugly? Okay, fine, but if he’s so ugly and horrible to look at, Zuko should just say that and then everyone can move on—

“Why are you thinking so hard?” Zuko suddenly asks him. He squints. “Doesn’t seem good for you.” 

It’s almost tender, the way he tilts his head after saying that, like he’s trying to get a better look. The soft lighting on the library’s third floor—where it’s quietest—hits the gold in Zuko’s eyes so well. So pretty. 

He’s a bit caught up in those eyes, Sokka is, so he struggles with forming a sentence. 

“I—I’m just, uh, over it. This.” He gestures vaguely between them. 

The pretty color of Zuko’s eyes turns a bit fearful then, mostly confused, and Sokka knows he only catches it because he may or may not have made sure he was aware of every feeling they were capable of conveying whatever Zuko’s face didn’t. He quickly clarifies. 

“Studying, I mean! My brain is super fried and I’m just super bored,” he says, and is sure to not miss the subtle, relieved drop of his… friend’s shoulders. 

That’s the weird thing about them. They are friends, that’s true that’s for sure it goes without question, but the word still doesn’t seem like enough. There’s plenty of friend things they do, like help each other study or share swipes into the dining hall, but there’s also… not-friend things they do. They sit too close at soccer games, and sleep in the same bed after a party where neither of them drank as much as they say they did. Sometimes they play footsie under the tables in the hub, and sometimes Sokka will borrow a sweater from Zuko’s closet that he never asks him to return. 

Sokka never offers to return them, either, at least not before they lose their warm smoky smell. Once that happens, he’ll leave the sweater in Zuko’s apartment where it’ll get washed and worn and wait until the next time it’s borrowed. That’s their “secret” arrangement, even if it’s as open as a secret can be. Everyone knows Sokka doesn’t own any red clothes. Everyone knows Zuko wears red or black almost every day. 

_ You really should just make it official,  _ Suki has said to him more than once. Whenever Sokka tries telling her that they’re just friends, her responses of choice are either  _ for now,  _ or a reminder that Sokka hasn’t so much as glanced at another person since he and Zuko started hanging out one-on-one. 

Usually, when Suki tells Sokka to do something, he’ll complete the task before she even gets the words out of her mouth. But this, he’s been putting off for… a while. 

He’s scared, okay? He likes Zuko, yes fine that much is obvious. He likes what they have now, and there’s no doubt he would like it so much more if they got to be boyfriends but it’s just scary to think about what would happen if he asked and Zuko said no. Maybe it’s unlikely, but it’s not impossible. Not when it’s Sokka, who has to try really hard to be good at things and to look nice and to get people to like him for him, asking someone like Zuko, who’s… really cool. Too cool. And comes from money, so he’s used to the finer things in life, the things that Sokka and his humble upbringing couldn’t reasonably offer. Take all that into account and it’s no surprise Sokka doesn’t feel like he’s good enough. 

_ Material stuff like that doesn’t matter,  _ Aang has told him before,  _ especially to Zuko. You know him as well as anyone.  _

It’s a good point. It’s true. Zuko’s not the flashy type despite having ridiculously grand reasons to be. For example, the university’s School of Business building that’s named after his grandfather. The only reason Sokka and his friends even know that isn’t because Zuko told them, but because other people have; students’ poorly-concealed whispers as he walked by or the expectant looks professors gave him when they connected his lineage. 

Sokka doesn’t really know what that’s like to have people basically treat you like royalty everywhere you go but he never thought he’d mind it if they did. His home away from home is at the center of attention, if he’s being honest. It must have its perks, although seeing Zuko regard the attention like its a huge weight bending his back has made him reconsider pros and cons. He even left the frat he’s a legacy of, willingly giving up letters whose prestige Sokka has coveted his whole college career. If the rumors are true, people have done real questionable things to be able to claim them, things Zuko won’t explicitly describe but explicitly refused to do. 

So. It’s clear Zuko doesn’t care about obvious or traditional status symbols. And that’s perfect. Sokka doesn’t really have any, except maybe the money he makes at his part time job that allows him to buy an extra iced coffee a week or, if he wants to splurge, some new sneakers every 3-6 months. The latter depends on how many extra iced coffees (read: blended mochas with cayenne, half-sweet) he’s buying. Lately it hasn’t been any, given that Zuko has all but locked himself away to slave over study guides. It took the best of Sokka’s coercion skills to pull him out into the public eye with the promise of productivity and…

(Zuko’s stomach growls, right on time.)

Brain food, on him. 

“Hungry?” he asks. 

Zuko nods. 

They make eye contact. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Absolutely. I think what you think. Good, because I don’t wanna think of anything else. 

They race to pack up their things, like someone is gonna beat them to Sokka’s Civic sitting in the farthest corner of the parking lot. It actually doesn’t have a lock on the driver’s side and if you grip it just right on the back passenger window you could slide it down and like, get in. So if someone were to beat them to the car, the chances of it getting stolen are… not SO slim, and absolutely NEVER zero. 

The car lives to see another day in Sokka’s possession when they get there, even if there’s a new scuff on his door. It matches the one on the other side though, so he’ll just ignore it this time. It’s futile to expect adequate driving and manners from the people at this ridiculous school. 

Not terribly affected by the late chill, Sokka gently rubs his hands together to keep them warm as the car trembles while heating up. Zuko, very much someone who grew up in a tropical climate, squeezes his hands tightly under his armpits to conserve heat. He’s already sniffling.

“Okay summer boy, it’s maybe 40 degrees out here. Give Baby like 3 minutes to warm up,” Sokka says, and he lightly taps the back of his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. 

“That’s freezing,” is Zuko’s simple reply. “I think I can see my breath.” 

“No you can’t! It’s not even that bad.” 

To prove his point, Sokka (lovingly, lowkey) pries Zuko’s arms away from his body so he can fold their hands together. Zuko’s are warm, maybe even slightly more so than Sokka’s. 

“You run super hot, I don’t even get why you’re complaining.”

It’s dark, so that makes it easy for him to ignore the strained kind of look Zuko’s got on his face. He doesn’t wanna embarrass the man, mostly because he’s also gonna get embarrassed if he acknowledges anything else directly pertaining to the current situation. Like, they’re really holding hands right now. Have they done this before? Technically yes, but… they haven’t done this in a not-gay chicken way. It’s for real this time. 

But, actually, is this really even “for real”? When Sokka imagines holding someone’s hand for real, he imagines doing it when they’re, you know, dating. It feels different that way. Better. People’s hands feel softer then, feel warmer then, although he’s not so sure he can imagine that when Zuko’s hands are already warm as they are, and already soft with expensive creams that only rich people use. 

Finally Baby is spitting out less-than-frigid air, so they’re good to go. They buckle up in silence and turn the radio up just a little too loud to allow conversation, on purpose. 

It’s the wrong side of midnight currently, but the McDonald’s drive thru is poppin’ as ever, full of other brain dead students getting their fast food fix as a post-study reward. 

Sokka turns the music down as their car inches closer to the speaker, leaning a little closer to his window like he actually needs to peruse the menu. It’s a habit at this point despite the fact that his order hasn’t changed since he was probably like 15: 10 piece nuggets, large fries, blue Powerade. He swears by his nuggies, and has even put Zuko, who was turbulently ignorant of the wonders of McDonald’s over personal chefs, onto them. 

“Do you wanna share a fries?” he asks. “So I can just get the 20 piece?” 

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

He’s not just asking because it’s cheaper (although it absolutely is), he’s asking because it feels more intimate in a way. They get their own 10 piece, yes, but they came together, so they’re actually sharing. And then they’ll literally be sharing the fries, which is, dare he say, romantic, and not something he would mind in the slightest. He’d share the rest of his meals with Zuko if he had the chance, honestly. 

When they pull up to the first window, Sokka can see Zuko reaching into his pocket to pull out some cash, but he stops him. 

“Don’t worry about it, dude. The man is supposed to pay for the date, so I got you.” 

That was… kinda bold on his part, he’ll admit. Neither of them have ever called their hangouts dates before, but apparently Sokka suddenly wasn’t in the mood to self-regulate his speech. His stomach twists up, waiting for Zuko’s reaction, waiting to see if he even noticed. (Kind of hoping he didn’t, kind of hoping he did.) 

Zuko puts his money away. “What makes you think you’re the man?” 

...Okay. Is that good? Like, is that a good response? What does he say to that? Suddenly, Sokka is severely questioning his masculinity. 

“Because I’m… paying?” That’s the best he has.

“But were you the man before deciding to pay? Or is that just something you suddenly became?” 

Sokka doesn’t know Zuko’s little sister that well (mostly by choice, honestly) but he’s familiar with her style of… well, interrogation, and it seems like it might run in the family. He wonders who learned it from who. 

“Um, sir? Your change?” The poor teenager is leaning out the window with a few dollars in her hand. How long she’s been waiting, who knows. 

“Woah, sorry! Thanks.” Shamefully, Sokka relieves this 16-year-old of her burden. They should go lest they continue to hold up the line and get into some kind of altercation. It may or may not have happened before. 

There’s a little park nearby that has no playground so rarely anyone visits. They choose that as their dining spot. In a complete disregard for his car battery, Sokka turns the car off but twists the ignition back so the radio stays on for ambiance. He used to have an aux cord, but the adapter broke off inside the cigarette port thingy so they have to settle for pressing ‘seek’ until it lands on a decent radio station. It takes time, but they find one. 

Zuko starts distributing their food, even opening the box of nuggets to shake some fries into the lid before he hands it over to Sokka, and then doing the same for himself. Sokka’s barbecue sauce is snuggled amongst the nuggets and he’s making his first glorious dip. Zuko, on the other hand, is still rummaging around in the bag even though it doesn’t seem like there’s anything left in there. 

“What’s up?” Sokka asks around a crispy, saucy bite. 

He won’t admit it, but Zuko is pouting. “They forgot my spicy buffalo.” 

It’s McDonald’s, so. Disappointing, but unsurprising. Still, because it’s Zuko who doesn’t have his sauce, and it’s Sokka who is taking him out on this date ( _ date!),  _ Sokka can’t help but feel responsible. He must correct this injustice. 

“We’ll just go back and get it, then,” he says, starting the car back up. 

“No!” Zuko says almost immediately. “We don’t have to. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Dude, they forgot your sauce! It is a big deal!”

“I said it’s fine! I’ll just eat them like this, it doesn’t matter.” 

Sokka is already reversing out of the parking lot. “You just wanna eat your nuggies dry? Zuko. I can’t let you do that.” 

“Sokka!” Zuko shoves a nugget into his mouth, fiercely chewing it. “It’s okay, look, I’m eating it! I don’t wanna go back!” 

He stops the car. It’s a hard stop, hard enough to nearly knock over the open box of food on his lap. He looks at Zuko, is met with an expression that really says he doesn’t feel like making a big deal out of this, please, just leave it alone and let me eat my incomplete meal in peace. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you my other barbecue, if you want?” He’s ‘asking’ but it’s definitely more like ‘telling’, since Sokka is handing over the unopened container before giving Zuko a chance to answer. 

It’s not enough sauce for either of them (at least 4 nuggets have to go dry on Sokka’s end) but they enjoy it regardless. Even sauceless nuggets can taste good when you eat them with the right person. 

They sit, full and content, in a silence that begins to grow slightly long and slightly awkward. Zuko’s leg is bouncing in short quick bursts, stopping only when he slightly extends his leg to tap his toes instead. Sokka kind of grinds his teeth while he waits, unsuccessfully, for his mouth to fill with a conversation topic. He feels his chest swell with the need to say something. 

“So…” He slides his gaze over to Zuko.

“Uh, so.” Zuko’s eyes meet his. “What are you tryna do?”

There’s a part of Sokka, scared of what may come next, that wants super badly to turn away and further stall their situationship, but there’s a slightly bigger part that realizes there’s an opportunity waiting right now that he doesn’t know when he’ll get again. 

His heart is pounding, so loudly, so strongly, that it propels him forward, and his hand reaches out to gently touch Zuko’s warming cheek and coax his face closer to Sokka’s own. When their lips meet, he just can’t stop himself.

It’s fingers in soft black hair, it’s a palm pressing into his thigh as Zuko supports himself while leaning further into his space, further and further, until eventually situating himself in Sokka’s lap. The seat jolts when he scoots it all the way back to make room. Zuko tilts his hips to keep his balance, and the shift leads him to rub just the right way along the seam of Sokka’s jeans. 

He hisses. He’s hot all over. 

“C’mere,” he says. 

Zuko places a hand on the side of Sokka’s neck when he kisses him this time, with the base of his thumb snug in the angle of his jaw and his blunt nails scratching faintly at the nape of his neck. Sokka has to grab Zuko’s bicep and squeeze, and when Zuko’s tongue enters his mouth for him to suck on, he uses his other hand to grab his hip and guide its movement. 

Fuck. This feels pretty good. Is this what they could’ve been doing this whole time? This, and more? More, more—Sokka almost can’t wrap his head around there potentially being more and it being better than this. It’s just a bit too much. This feeling. It’s new to him, not something he’s ever felt with his ex-girlfriends or even that one kind of-boyfriend from two years ago; this is more… complete. Filling up a cup he didn’t realize wasn’t full. 

Full, like how his gut feels, like how his pants feel, almost a bit too much, he should do something—

“Can I?” Zuko is asking, just barely pulled away, and it’s then Sokka notices the hand not cupping his face is hovering at his zipper. 

His nod is eager. “Yes. You ever held a dick before?” he teases. He can’t help it. 

Zuko rolls his eyes, but proceeds. “No, I don’t even know what they look like.” 

When he pulls it out, it takes everything in Sokka to not whine at the skin-on-skin. When he strokes leisurely, the pleasure is fuzzy and consuming. Even his toes are prickling a little. 

Sokka slides his hand under Zuko’s shirt, spreading his fingers to touch as much skin as he can, feeling over the subtle ridges of his stomach, moving up to swipe his thumb over a nipple and earning himself a validating twitch. He’s kissing slowly at his neck while shifting his leg higher the best he can to give Zuko some more friction for himself. You can’t say he’s not considerate. 

Oh, damn. It’s coming (cumming? heh) sooner than he thought. The pressure is building up too quickly for Sokka to have any hope of just extinguishing it out of convenience, and all he manages is a  _ “h-hey”  _ before he’s spilling onto Zuko’s fingers. Like a champ, he works him through it. 

“Um, thanks,” he says, like it’s not the most awkward, virginal thing to say to someone who just helped you nut. 

Zuko’s eyebrow draws downward and his lips tighten, like maybe he could laugh but is really choosing not to. 

“No problem. I thought it would be a fair trade for the nuggets.” 

At the word trade, Sokka would be lying if he said his heart didn’t sink just a little teensy bit (read: a big teensy bit), because it makes the encounter seem transactional. Or premeditated. The last thing he wants is for Zuko to think Sokka bought him food for this reason when the reality is that Sokka would buy him every last nuggie in the world so long as Zuko let him. Like really. 

“Next time, though—” Zuko pauses to give Sokka a peck— “Let me be the man. I’ll take you out.” 

Sokka can’t contain his smile. His heart rises back into place and maybe even a little higher. “Next time?” Next time. He wants to have a next time, another time that was like this one, with these things happening. 

“Mhm. I’ll even get you your own meal.” 

“And if I’d rather share with you?” 

“Then we can do that. I think I’d like it better too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> zukka!!!!!!!!!!! screams
> 
> i love chicken mcnuggies i love zukka and i love meeokie for coming up with this idea :3c i hope to write more of them (maybe involving nuggets again) soon
> 
> twitter: @superslimeys


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